Protectors
by The Uncontainable Man
Summary: A one-shot about a man who tries to go against the Combine's rule.


**[Author's Note: I'm sorry about not updating In the Name of the Father yet. Life has been a lot busier than I expected lately. But never fear. I have started writing down the next few chapters. To whet your appetite in the meantime, here's a one-shot set a few days after the Combine's arrival on Earth. Hope you enjoy it!]**

**Also, I don't own Half-Life or Valve or anything Half-Life related. **

Protectors

The knock came on Marc's door around noon. He was expecting them. The letter had come a couple days beforehand, informing him that he was to be taken to the nearest train heading out of the city. His destination was to be decided at a later date. He was to be allowed only one suitcase. They recommended he didn't take any clothes with him. Apparently, all of his clothing will be taken care of. Just the sound of that seemed bad to Marc. Food was allowed, but no liquids. The letter stated that "A cold, refreshing can of _Dr. Breen's Private Reserve_® will be supplied for any passenger who feels thirsty for their trip into the wild unknown!"

The knock on the door came again; this time with more impatience. A crackling voice came through, saying "Open up!" Marc stood up from the sofa, picked up his suitcase, and walked down the hallway to his front door. He could see two of them waiting for him outside. Just past them a black tank was sitting by the side of the road. He opened the door.

"Afternoon," said Marc.

"Greetings, Civilian…" the Combine Civil Protection member looked down at the clipboard in front of him. "Civilian Marc Pondretti: Number 43632. This is Civil Protection Unit 12 here to escort your person to Station 31. Are you prepared to leave your residence?"

"Can I just, you know, take a quick stroll inside the old homestead?" Marc asked he looked up at the house wistfully. He looked back at the officer and smiled. "I have a lot of memories here. You used to be human. You know what I'm talking about, right?"

"It is true that I was once of the human species," answered the officer. "I do understand a human's need to say a farewell to an object he has affection for. You may have some time alone."

"Thanks," said Marc. He lifted the suitcase up. "Would you mind taking this out to the tank while I'm inside?"

"That would be no problem, Civilian. JC-4," the officer turned towards his companion behind him. "Take this case and put it in the APC for the civilian."

"Yes, sir," replied the other officer. He took the suitcase from Marc and walked to the APC.

"I'll be right back," said Marc. He stepped inside the house.

* * *

A few minutes later, Marc came back to the front and opened the door. The Civil Protection officer turned around to inform him that it was time to leave and was surprised for a split second. He was surprised to find that Marc had a pistol pointed directly to his head. The next second, however, Marc pulled the trigger and the officer lay on the front porch, no longer surprised. A piercing screech came out from the officer's body and alerted the officers outside the APC. Marc quickly ran back inside to avoid the gun shots.

Marc locked the door behind him and ran up the front stairs, firing over his shoulder at the remaining Civil Protection shooting through his windows. He ran into the room directly in front of him and slammed that door, too. He slid down onto the carpet with his back against door. He took three deep breaths to calm his nerves.

There were multiple fists slamming against the front door and many officers yelling out for him to open up.

"Attention Civilian 43632," the crackle came from a CP that sounded like it was being amplified through a bullhorn. "You are under arrest for the murder of an officer and refusing to leave the premises as ordered. Come out peacefully and you will not be charged with further crimes."

Marc grinned to himself. "Like hell I will," he said. He stood up, still breathing heavily, and walked over to the closet door and opened it.

"This is your last warning, Civilian," continued the CP officer. "Open the door or we will be forced to enter through brute force." The bullhorn was turned off.

The closet was full of pistols and SMGs, all of which would be useful against the brigade that was going to be entering his house at any moment now. Marc selected two Glock pistols and a UMP for his upcoming battle. He suddenly heard a beep. Marc prepared himself. The beep came again, and again, until it became an almost unbearable continuous sound. There was an explosion and Marc hurtled himself out the door and onto the landing.

There were six Civil Protection officers standing in the smoky remains of his doorway. Four more waited outside. The soldiers didn't seem to notice Marc until he opened fire on them and downed one of the men that released another high-pitched shriek as he fell. At this point all of the CPs fired their weapons at him.

He dove to the wall at his right just as their bullets ripped through the stair's railing and into the wall parallel to him. He blind-fired the UMP over his shoulder into the remaining railings and onto the floor where he guessed the officers would still stand. He heard a grunt of pain but there was no following beep. There was a slight pause in the action as the CPs turned toward their injured man. Marc took the opportunity to take his Glock out, turn away from the wall and fire down into the crowd. This time he was able to shoot one of the officers in the back of the head, making it emit the screech.

Marc took cover behind the wall again. He was able to make out some of the chatter under the gun fire that continued to ring against the walls around him.

"Who's down? WHO'S DOWN?!"

"JC-65, JC-17, JC-4."

"AR-2 report, JC-7!"

"Low on ammo!"

"Out of ammo!"

"Sir? Are reinforcements needed?"

"No! Grenade!"

That was all Marc needed to here before he ran to his left and into his bedroom. The grenade landed right where he was a second before and blew a hole through his floor and into the living room below. A CP fired up through the hole at him but missed. Marc slammed the door and locked it. Even though he knew doing so was worthless, Marc thought it would give him enough time to think through what to do next.

Marc took another second to calm down. Slowly, he walked from the door over to the window and peered out. There were too many officers outside for him to try to get out that way. Besides, the fall would most likely injure him and stop any chance of escape. Marc walked over to his closet and looked up the hatch in the ceiling. He couldn't go up in the attic. There was no way out if they found their way up there. Marc checked his ammo. The UMP had about a quarter ammunition left and he had two almost full Glock pistols. That still wouldn't be enough to take down almost ten of them, he decided.

There weren't any officers outside his door yet, but they would come soon enough. He sat down on the edge of the bed; his pistol pointed straight at the door. For now, he would just have to sit and wait.

* * *

The knock at his door was quiet, just like the first knock he had heard today.

"Who is it?" said Marc in a sarcastic tone.

"It's Paul," replied the voice in the typical CP crackle.

Marc's stomach sank. How could the Combine know…? They didn't know who Paul was. Unless…

"You're shitting me, right?" said Marc. He tried to sound confident. He got up from the bed and slowly started walking to the door. "Paul who? Because the only Paul I know is long gone. He's…"

"My name is Paul Donovan Wester. I used to live on 8675 East Ave. The last time we saw each other was the day before the War…"

Marc opened the door, grabbed the officer around the throat and dragged him into the room before any CP could fire at him. The strange thing was that there were no Civil Protection officers in the hallway.

"Where's the rest of them?" demanded Marc.

"The men are all outside," said Paul. He pushed himself out of Marc's grip. "I convinced them that you'd come quieter if I were able to speak to you one-on-one. Just come quietly and there won't be any more trouble."

Marc stared at the man that claimed to be Paul. He shook his head in disbelief. This couldn't be Paul; there was just no way. But what the officer had said was specific enough to be…Paul.

"Why did you join them, Paul?" asked Marc, his voice betraying what he really felt. "I just-I don't get it. You're not the type of person to do this; join these bastards!"

"I'm one of those bastards too, Civilian," said Paul. "And I'd recommend you do not call the Civil Protection force by that name any-"

"Civilian?!" Marc seemed almost hysterical now. "That's what I am to you, just a damn Civilian? Explain why you're a traitor, goddamnit! Explain!"

Marc sat down on the edge of the bed again, trying to hold in his tears. Paul looked down at him through the blank mask.

"I apologize," replied Paul. "But after the conversion from Human to Combine, most of our vocabulary was lost; including names. Therefore we refer to all of the human species as Civilians. It was not meant as a derogatory comment.

Marc looked up at the uniform in front of him, trying to imagine his friend whom he had last seen just days ago inside of it. He decided it wasn't worth the try.

"So, Paul, how did you end up like this? Torture? Were you captured?" said Marc. "Could you please explain what happened? You do know what _please _means, right?"

"I do still understand the word," replied Paul. "So I will inform you on how I became a Civil Protector. May I sit down?"

Marc gestured to the space next to him. Paul sat down and told his story.

* * *

The day the Combine landed on Earth, a broadcast was emitted from one of the main ships. It was transmitted to every radio, every TV station, and every Internet feed across the globe. All remaining military actions ceased for a moment. Both sides, human and Combine forces, stopped to listen to the broadcast.

The face that greeted television and Internet viewers was a pleasant one. He had a full, brown beard and blue eyes that projected peace and understanding. His voice was a calm and comforting one, and his message carried a tone that seemed to say "everything's going to be alright."

"Good evening, people of Earth," began the speaker. "This is Doctor Wallace Breen, head of the Black Mesa Research Facility in southern New Mexico. On the morning of May 26, an event called a Resonance Cascade occurred in the depths of this facility, causing multiple portals from another world we have named Xen to appear and release multiple creatures from this world onto our world.

"Afterwards, the military, _our_ military, came in to shut us down and to keep everything quiet. This resulted in the nuclear explosion that was detonated during the evening of that same day. At this time it seems that is the cause of the so-called portal storm that appeared over the skies of New Mexico and quickly spread across the entire Earth. Others have suggested it is because of a certain scientist who will remain unnamed who ventured into Xen to try and stop the alien invasion. However, the nuclear explosion seems the most likely cause.

"This portal storm caught the attention of the Combine forces that have been looking to extend their empire across multiple galaxies. The portals that have appeared over the Earth had counterparts that were near the Combine home world. From what they have told me, the Combine had been interested in Earth for quite some time but have not been able to make the distance from their planet to this one. Leaping for the chance, the Combine decided to come down and take over Earth for their own uses.

"As all of you know, every force in the military has been exhausted in trying to defeat the Combine army. While the rest of the world felt that it was necessary for every member of every army in the world to die to no avail, I decided that enough people had died; military, civilian, and Combine. And so, I was able to make contact with the Combine's radio chatter and was able to negotiate with them. They have allowed me to enter their ship so that I may relay you this message.

"The war is over. Earth is now in the hands of the Combine. Now, don't panic, _do not panic_. Not only is this war over, all wars are over. The whole world will be united under the Combine rule and there will be no leaders who will squabble and waste their time on how countries should be ruled. The world will be united and stronger because of this day.

"Of course, there does need to be a leader, and the Combine has chosen me as the…for lack of a better term…ruler of Earth. They think that I have leadership abilities suitable enough for this monumental task. I am grateful to them and all of you should thank them as well that they don't punish you further for the seven-hour annoyance they were put through. I hope that I can meet their hopes and fulfill all of their desires and yours, people of Earth, if need be.

"And our benefactors, the Combine, have offered that anyone who is willing to give them their service can sign up to be turned into a Civil Protector, someone who will patrol the streets and act as a sort of subordinate to the Combine Overwatch. We will be broadcasting the locations of all of the areas for you, the people of Earth, to sign up for this prestigious offer. That is all. This is your leader, Wallace Breen, signing off."

And that _was_ all.

The next day, Paul and many others around the area decided to sign up for the act of becoming an officer. The men didn't consider it giving in; it was just serving their new leaders. Why should they bother fighting if they could join the force and get the benefits that were promised them? Free room and board, three meals a day, a healthy pay. The work hours were the standard eight hour shifts they were accustomed to: 9 am to 5 pm, 5 pm to 1 am, and 1 am to 9 am. Everyone knew they could handle it.

The knock at Paul's door the day after he and his group of friends had signed up was urgent. When Paul answered it he was grabbed by the Overwatch standing there and dragged from his apartment without the chance to grab his suitcase he had packed. The officer stated that there was no need for material possessions anymore. It made Paul feel sick inside.

When he was put in the APC with all of his other friends, however, everything was alright again. They all joked about being able to boss everyone else around and that the people against this action just weren't thinking properly.

"Hey Paul," one of the men, Bill, asked him. "What about your friend Marc? Didn't he want to sign up? Or is he one of those pussies who can't stand the fact that maybe the world's better with these guys taking care of us?"

"I don't know," replied Paul. "I haven't talked to him since the day before the war. The thing is though; he would think _we_ were pussies. 'Giving up' he'd call it."

The men had a laugh at that. They weren't quitters. Everyone else was just weak. At least, that's what they kept telling themselves more and more frequently.

A minute later they were informed they had arrived at their destination; Alcatraz. The men looked out their window. Alcatraz was only forty-five minutes away from their house; they had all been there before. But now it looked completely alien to them. It was mostly because of the fact that there was a large structure right in the middle of the abandoned prison that looked unlike anything they'd seen before. The officers in the vehicle told them this was the facility the Combine had placed there to act as both a transformation center and a prison.

Once the APC crossed the bridge the Combine had set up from the coast to the small island, all the men were escorted to different sections. They all shouted to each other that as soon as it was done they'd all go out for a celebratory drink. They never saw each other again.

The remaining time there was a blur to Paul. He was taken to the same room as numerous other people. It seemed like a giant operating room. Paul's thoughts were confirmed when, at once, rows and rows of operating tables rose out of the floor in front of everyone. A voice over the loudspeaker announced that they were to lie down on their designated table and wait for their operators to begin. Everyone complied.

Suddenly a tube with a facemask coiled around the side of the table and stuck on Paul's face. He assumed the same thing had occurred to all the others in the operating chamber. He was asleep before his operators showed up.

When he woke up, he had a vague memory of some of his friends, his home, the invasion, and nothing else. He was officially a Civil Protection officer. He was assigned to his hometown to assist in clearing out homes to make way for the new city, City 27.

The day had started easily enough. Everyone so far had gone peacefully. Some even seemed a little optimistic about going off to the unknown. The officers knew what really awaited them but didn't bother. They might as well leave everyone at peace. The Civil Protectors had actually started feeling good about the day. Then they arrived at Marc Pondretti's house.

* * *

Paul had finished his story. Marc looked at him for a second and stood up; Paul did the same.

"I have told you my story," said Paul. "What is yours?"

"I don't have a story," said Marc. "I've just stayed here the last few days. I was doing the right thing, _not_ joining those…those freaks. I know you're one of them, Paul! I still can't trust them. Not when they're doing that!"

He pointed out the window to the construction that was happening a few blocks down. It was going to be a tall tower, a citadel, the brochure had called it. It would bring over three hundred new jobs and would bring the population total up in the cities lucky enough to receive them. It was an ugly, mechanical thing. It made California's foggy skies even more disgusting. Marc hadn't seen the sun in days.

"Citizen-I mean," stammered Paul.

"Whatever. If Citizen is all you can manage, just call me that," said Marc, disgusted. He turned away from Paul

"Citizen," began Paul again. He gestured towards the citadel Marc had shown anger towards. "This is the future. These beautiful citadels are what will keep your kind above the brink. All violent activities have ended. This is a bright new beginning for humanity. Please, that word you humans love most. Please, just come with us and all of your violence can be ended as well."

Marc still faced away from Paul. "Maybe all my violence can end in violence," he said.

"I don't understand," said Paul.

"Just say I made a move to attack you and that you just reacted the way you were shot. No one's going to care if there's an extra body to the pile," he said, refusing to look at Paul.

"Citizen, I don't know if my superiors would look kindly on it," replied Paul.

"I'm just asking you one final favor, friend," said Marc. "Just do it quick and that'll be it."

"No, it is not right," said Paul.

"Just do it!" yelled Marc. The next moment he knew nothing.

* * *

When Marc came to, he was in a cramped space that was traveling along a bumpy road. As he groaned, trying to regain consciousness, he heard snippets of conversation.

"He was threatening me verbally and seemed ready to attack."

"Did he make such a move?"

"It seemed as if he were going towards his pistol. So I decided that beating him across his head would subdue him well enough."

"A very wise move JC-32. You say that he confused you with someone else?

"Yes. He was convinced I was a friend of his. The invasion must have messed with his mind like many others."

"Is that him waking up? Yes, it is. Let's not talk anymore. Again, you handled the situation well."

"Thank you, sir."

After that, there was no other conversation. By now Marc had regained consciousness. He was able to make out the two officers who had been talking a second ago. The one on the left was looking at him. Marc looked away. He couldn't bare the sight of a traitor.

"Hey, you okay?" asked someone to his left. Marc looked over at the man seated across from him.

"What d'ya mean?" said Marc.

"Well, it's just that you've got this big old gash across your forehead and you've been sleeping kinda restlessly. Think you'll be okay?"

Marc looked at him for a second. "Yeah, I'll be fine," he said.

The man looked out the small window. "Would you look at that…" he said.

Marc stood up walked to the man's side. "What is it?" he asked.

"Wanna see? Here." The man slid over for Marc to look out.

There were more of those citadels being constructed, one after the other, for miles it seemed. There were also fires; numerous fires, all of them coming from old buildings around the citadels.

_So that's how they're clearing out all these buildings_, Marc thought.

"It's kinda fun, isn't it?" said the man. Marc turned towards him, somewhat confused. "I mean, heading off into the unknown, all of these new cities going up. Never know what's going to happen, right?"

Marc turned back towards the window and looked out on the hellfire that raged along the coast.

"Sure," Marc replied. "It'll be fun as hell."


End file.
